‘We are definitely going to have to land anyway,’ said Bel, with an anxious glance ahead at the westering sun, which would soon be setting. ‘How about by that farmhouse over there?’

‘Surely it would be better no one knows we have passed by,’ said Clariel.

Bel nodded reluctantly.

‘Look for a large, flat field,’ he said. ‘Without big stones. We’ll swoop over low to look closer and then turn back and land.’

‘There,’ said Clariel, pointing over Bel’s shoulder. Up ahead there was a larger field than usual left fallow, so it currently sported short pale green and yellow grasses in tufts between patches of dirt. At its northwestern end, it abutted a low, forested hill of old, lichen-covered oaks, accompanied by chestnuts and birches of lesser ancestry. It was clearly tended by foresters, for it was more open and sparse than any ancient forest, but even so it called to Clariel.

‘Looks all right,’ confirmed Bel. He pursed his lips and blew. At first nothing came out and he looked disturbed, even frightened, then he managed a whistle. It was soft, but true, and infused with Charter marks. The Paperwing heard it and angled down, till they were swooping along only twenty or thirty paces above the ground, their speed much more apparent to Clariel now, as were the various stone walls, stumps, trees and other obstacles they could run into and be smashed to pieces.

But their chosen field looked safe enough, the plough marks still present, indicating it had been turned over in the spring, if not replanted. Bel whistled again, the Paperwing rose and veered to the left, away from the forest, rising a little to circle back the way they had come.

‘Can you see from the treetops which way the wind is blowing?’ asked Bel.

‘From the south,’ said Clariel. ‘Not very strong.’

‘Hold on tight for the landing,’ said Bel as the Paperwing completed its turn into the wind and began to descend. ‘Could be bumpy.’

But it wasn’t bumpy at all. The Paperwing skimmed over the grass, occasionally touching to lose speed, before coming down to skid some twenty paces through loose soil, sending a spray of dirt to either side but barely rocking its two passengers.

Bel’s head dropped onto his chest and he let out a long sigh. Clariel waited a moment to make sure the Paperwing wasn’t going to move again, then climbed out, stretched her arms up and unkinked her back.

‘I am very tired,’ announced Bel. He struggled to stand up and would have fallen over if Clariel hadn’t lunged forward to steady his elbow. ‘I hope your forest beds are as comfortable as you say.’

‘If you’re that tired it won’t matter,’ said Clariel. ‘How’s your shoulder?’

Bel moved his arm slightly and winced.